Ab Initio
by Nevah
Summary: Krycek takes a sort of divided look at his first night with Mulder. Mulder/Krycek slash. A follow-up to "It's Been Awhile."


I was curious to take a look at some of the specific events of my first fic, so this would be the attempt at it. I'm considering doing all the encounters or at least one more, if I decide this one turned out well enough. Krycek admittedly sounds a little nuts here, but c'mon -- much as I love him, the guy has issues. And anyway, it makes him so much more fun to write.  
  
I don't own these guys -- CC does. No suing me, please. And be warned that this is kinda dark, kinda angsty, and R-rated for a reason. R-rated *slash*, to be even more specific.  
  
Oh yeah - I kind of have a thing for giving my stories Latin titles, in case anyone has noticed. This one means "from the beginning."  
  
~*~   
  
To this day, I'm still not sure what the fuck I was thinking. Oh yeah, I wanted to stave off the routine beating and all of that, but the means I chose to the end really are beyond me. You could have slugged me, you could have so easily shot me right in the chest, and I did it anyway. /Call me impulsive, if you must, but just call me./ I welcomed your most violent reaction -- hell, I almost dared you to start taking swings. I know *I* would have broken a man for it, even if just on some lame, macho principle. But all the same, I couldn't seem to stop myself as I reached out, cupping my hand against the warmth of your neck and moving my fingers through the fine little hairs, mesmerized by the smooth, tickling sensation prickling along my skin. You paused, undoubtedly shocked, and I raced at the opportunity to seize total control.   
  
Control.   
  
Jesus, power-tripping is an aphrodisiac like you would *not* believe. Do you know that? I think you do, you pretty little passive-aggressive thing. You have Skinner and Miss Dana down at the Bureau jumping at your every whim, and I don't give you near enough credit as to believe it's by accident. You know -- you *must* know -- exactly what you do to people, that pouty mouth and all the fascinating words that fall out of it. If you can't render someone helpless with your face -- which is rare, don't kid yourself -- your scathing intellect paired with the phenomenal paranoia is more than enough to keep 'em all panting after you like hungry puppies.   
  
Of course, I never made it that far. Not at first, anyway. I was just like the others, enraptured by your beauty and all the fantasies it inspired. Truth be told, that's exactly what happened that night: I just sort of forgot, the line between reality and my lascivious thoughts blurred beyond distinction, and the daydreaming me took control just long enough to make me do something stupid. *The* stupid thing, in fact. I let you see, I showed my cards like a damn rookie. Always be the desired and not the desirer, that's the rule if you want to stay alive, and I fucking broke it so hard I'm amazed I didn't end up with whiplash. To want something is to be weak, and I can't believe I offered up my big, gaping wound to you with such a damned fervor. What an idiot. I realized what I had done just as it became too late, and so I waited for the inevitable. I waited for the bloody massacre to begin, but --   
  
But.   
  
Then there was the pause. That beautiful, gorgeous hesitation that bounced everything back into my court so fast I almost missed it. /Time to take advantage, time to fall... it's time, it's time. Now. Do it, it's time./ "I won't hit if you don't, Mulder. I promise." The words were gentler than I would have expected from myself, but then, you always manage to force things out of me that are entirely foreign. I'd been ready to hand down some ultimate cruelty, flesh out a fantasy /on your knees Mulder, *now*/, but I just couldn't do it. In my head the thoughts made me hard, but in my hands I only wanted soft /soft lips, soft hands, soft hair, softsoftsoft on me everywhere/. Soft and willing. I've had quite a few fucks in my time, but there is nothing so exquisite as one that is unforced /tell me you want this Fox, show me please show me, I can't do this if you don't want it/ and even eager. When your hand finally reached out for me, touching my hip and sliding back, then lower, I almost lost myself. I never asked for that hand, I  
never begged, much as I wanted to -- you gave it. My god, you gave it, and I never would have expected so much. The fearful tremors of your muscles were both thrilling and heartbreaking, and I ached at the unbelievable need to ride that power raw. Fighting is so easy, Fox, but this -- not this. /Take or be taken, don't meet me halfway.../   
  
We moaned and rubbed and touched for a minute or two, innocent exploring /denial, denial... nothing is innocent... his helpless whimpers served well the vicious fantasies/, before I couldn't take it another second. "Christ Fox, put that pretty mouth to good use already." *Fuck*, /yes, please/, another careless mistake. I felt the smile against my throat and the power suddenly present in your grasp. Shifted again. Not mine. /I lied Mulder, I lied -- give it back, I need it. I need the control./ Your lips moved on my skin in ways I never imagined, my hips bucked insanely -- it had to stop.   
  
/Stop. Stop. Stop./   
  
I pushed you back, seating you abruptly on the couch as I kneeled in front of you. Your eyes went wide, this wasn't what you were expecting, but the hard edge of concentration in your gaze suddenly dulled as I pressed my palm to your straining, cloth-covered erection and adopted a rhythm against it. With the other hand I pulled almost violently at your tie, frantic to bare your skin but desperate to mask it as my evident power. /Right. Evident in what lifetime, you ass, you sucked his dick./ "Alex... *shit*, Alex..." /That's right Fox, you want this, you *need* this, I'm the giver and the taker and *everything* and that's just the way you want it.../ I undid the button and zipper of your slacks enough to shove them down on your hips and comfortably free your cock, running my fingertips in a deliberately slow path along the shaft. Your mouth opened and closed spastically, gasping for air but making no sound, knuckles tense and white as you groped at the sofa for grounding. /No footholds, never safe./ With very little ceremony I lowered my face to your lap, willing my throat muscles slack even before my lips touched you, coaching myself to swallow you whole without a flinch. Good wasn't good enough -- I wanted mind-blowing or I wanted nothing. And I'd be damned if I was going to take nothing.   
  
As I pulled away after the first thrust I allowed myself a moment to admire you, spread out so desperately before me, grunting and moaning and slick with my saliva, and so very, very hard. I couldn't have -- *haven't* -- ever imagined better, and believe me, that's quite the compliment. I'm a sick fuck, if anything, and I have plenty of time to fantasize. Your skin would positively *crawl* at some of the the elaborate scenarios I've concocted. Or would it? The lost expression on your face and the beads of sweat collecting on your exposed chest are such a surrender, so much control right there for the taking, that I wonder exactly what you'd do for me if I said the right things and touched you in the right places. This much should be enough, I'm well aware, but like I said. I'm a sick fuck, if anything. I licked the crown of your erection long and slow and simultaneously pinched a nipple, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat at the vastly inarticulate noises you made at the touches. "Tell me, Fox... tell me how it feels, tell me if you like it... be pretty and poetic for me..." I swallowed you again and settled in for a nice, leisurely blow job, my tongue sliding slowly against the hard flesh as I guided the erratic direction of your short thrusts toward the center of my throat.   
  
/That's it Mulder, let *me* lead, give *me* the power.../   
  
And all at once, the floodgates opened. One minute you couldn't form a coherent word, and in the next a veritable tidal wave of diction poured from your mouth. "Alex, oh god Alex... so good... so warm, so gentle... never dreamed you could be this soft, this sweet... mouth... I want it, I want to taste it, I want to feel it everywhere... pleaseohshitplease..." As you neared release, your thoughts ran together into nonsense again and your voice spiraled off into a garbled oblivion. No matter; you spoke enough to satisfy me, to give up the last of your control. I wanted you, I've always wanted you, but I *do* have a tiny morsel of pride, you know. There are certain standards, and they *will* be met. /Pretty high and mighty, Alex... you know you were ready to beg./ It would look questionable to an outsider, I'll admit. It's hard *not* to appear subordinate with another man's cock between your lips. But we both know the truth, now don't we? Nobody in control gives those plaintive little sobs as they come, or pants quietly as they're licked clean of their own semen. I crawled up to straddle your lap with my knees, pinning you beneath me as I leaned forward to push my tongue inside that pretty mouth. /My terms, this is on my terms, it isn't because you asked, it's because *I* wanted it, that's right Fox, it's always me, now be a good boy and sit there and taste yourself.../   
  
You offered, and more than once, to suck me off that night. You thought you were being gracious, trying to return the favor. Isn't that right? Isn't that what was running through your head as it dawned on you what happened, and you touched my face awkwardly with the back of your hand, scraping it in satisfying strokes across my stubble? And did you wonder why I said no? Do you still wonder? Of course you do, that's one of your greatest skills. You stick on things like a broken record, wearing the grooves deeper and deeper until you can't see the way out anymore. I bet it fucking irks you to death that I just smiled and shook my head, bending to nibble at your throat and silence you. /No, you can't see, you can't witness that helpless look in my eyes that I know would be there, you can't realize that I would be your slave for just one more touch of your lips.../ Your own purrs of contentment drowned out your protests, and that, as they say, was that. I took you /mine... I seized, I captured; mine always, mine from the beginning/, and that's just the way it is. Such an asshole, I know. A lying, cheating bastard, you've said it yourself so many times, but it has to be this way.   
  
I own you /you own me/, and that's just the way it is.   
  
~*~ 


End file.
